


Ceremony

by neverminetohold



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Family, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Transformers The Movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-20
Updated: 2012-04-20
Packaged: 2017-11-03 23:42:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/387269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverminetohold/pseuds/neverminetohold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ceremony - a formal act or series of acts prescribed by ritual, protocol, or convention...</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Disclaimer: Transformer's belongs to Hasbro.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ceremony

**Author's Note:**

  * For [got_buttermilk](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=got_buttermilk).



  
  
Dark gray clouds gathered over Autobot City and its inhabitants looked up to the sky warily, waiting for the rain to fall. The ceremonial place was already decorated and slowly filling with attendants.  
  
Ultra Magnus observed the preparations, giving last instructions here and there, but was overall satisfied with the proceedings. His optics swept over every 'bot present and he vented a heavy sigh.  
  
“The ceremony will soon begin – where is Rodimus?”  
  
“I haven't seen him since the mission,” Springer said, while he helped Daniel up to reach a banner.  
  
Kup huffed but decided to take pity on them. He handed his data-pad over to Arcee. “I'll look for him. If we're late you'll have to improvise.”  
  
XXX  
  
Kup, just as well as everybot else, knew exactly where to find the kid – Prime or not, some habits didn't change. He transformed, biting back a groan as his armor plates scraped over fresh welds. First Aid had done an excellent job but his self-repair systems were not what they used to be.  
  
Moments later a pick-up truck followed the dusty road from the city into the nearby mountains. The old viewing platform had not been repaired after the Decepticon attack that had cost them Optimus and its steel construction gleamed in the odd rays of sunlight that made it through the darkening clouds.  
  
Rodimus, sitting with his pedes dangling over the edge, was hard to overlook even from afar, thanks to his paint job.  
  
Once he reached the top he transformed and took in his Prime's sorry state: the fool had snuck out of med-bay and patched himself up. Kup sat down beside him, radiating disapproval but stopping himself from making a pointed remark. The young punk had long since proven that he had grown fully into his role as Prime and it was no longer his place to lecture him. – And sometimes Kup even managed to remember that, when he didn't 'forget' it for the greater good.  
  
For a long time neither acknowledged the others presence, with Kup listening to the far away rumble of thunder and Rodimus staring into nothing, his optics dimmed to teal. Kup could feel the heat of the younger 'bots frame and his audios detected the discordant sounds from systems struggling to repair themselves. A lightning scattered the moment of stillness, bringing down with it the first drops of rain.  
  
“We won.”  
  
“We did,” Kup said solemnly. He studied the city down below, before he added what must go through Rodimus' processor: “It doesn't feel like it.”  
  
Rodimus shivered, a tiny rattling that could have been a reaction to the water evaporating on his armor plates, but wasn't. “... No, it doesn't.”  
  
Kup waited a moment, but just as he wanted to prompt the younger 'bot to speak,  Rodimus asked. “What am I supposed to say? Standing before them – what can I say?”  
  
Kup thought of crushed frames and leaking energon, images from recent fights and wars long past; the memory files crowding his processor in a long row. He wished he had more to offer but answered all the same: “The truth. That their sacrifice will never be forgotten and their courage saved us all. That our sparks are with their family and friends in their grief.”  
  
Rodimus snorted, a bitter sound, and shook his helm in disappointment.  
  
Kup vented a sigh. “Just because those words were said time and time again, throughout Cybertron's history, doesn't make them any less true or sparkfelt. We have nothing else to offer, so they must be enough.”  
  
Rodimus seemed to process that for a while. “Does it get any easier?”  
  
“It's not meant to be easy.” Kup stood up and offered him his servo to help him up. “Let's go. We have a funeral to attend.”  
  
  
End  


**Author's Note:**

> based on this prompt: "young Rodimus struggles with his new position as Prime and Kup supports him"; given to me by: got_buttermilk


End file.
